


All That's Left Is Fire (But the Flowers Rewarded Us)

by FandomTrash24601



Series: Through the Mirror [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Don’t copy to another site, I hate myself for having to use all of those tags, Light Masochism, Love Confessions, M/M, Masochism, Mild Blood, Murdery boyfriends, laser scalpels, marks of ownership, time to play Guess Which Tag Looks Out of Place!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 04:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash24601/pseuds/FandomTrash24601
Summary: What happens now that McCoy is back in his own universe?Title taken from the poem Victory by Charles Bukowski.





	All That's Left Is Fire (But the Flowers Rewarded Us)

It had been almost a month since McCoy and Spock had returned to their own universe, and McCoy couldn't help but wonder what Bones had done to Kirk. While he knew it couldn't possibly be anything too bad, because there was no way a doctor from that universe could physically harm an Imperial captain, it was a little concerning.

Kirk was... irritated. That was really the only word for it. It was as if something had burrowed under Kirk's skin, and he couldn't get it out no matter how much he itched and dug. He snapped at officers more than usual, threw them in the agony booth for even the most minor of transgressions. He was rude and standoffish, and he fucked McCoy hard and rough more often than he had before.

The only officer who was immune in any way to Kirk's bouts of ire was, it seemed, McCoy.

It became a bizarre new normal for officers to come to McCoy and beg for him to save them from Captain Kirk. He would then do everything he could for them, of course. It was a little irritating, having a live conscience. Sometimes it wasn't enough though, like when Kirk threw Ensign Larson in the agony booth for so long that she suffered permanent nerve damage and had to be discharged from the Fleet.

Finally, sick of Kirk's own personal conflict wreaking havoc aboard the ship, McCoy confronted him.

The door slid open quietly, but Kirk's presence was as loud as ever. McCoy could almost feel the tension coming off of him in waves. Kirk was a predator, pure and simple, but he seemed to radiate something like lethality. It was almost enough to stop McCoy.

It didn't, though, and he looked up from the book he'd been reading on the couch and asked, "What did he do to you?"

"What?" Kirk asked. McCoy could almost see the anger that was desperate for relief bubbling beneath his skin.

"Bones. What did he do to you? You've been..." McCoy gestured aimlessly as he tried to find the word. "You've been itchy, I suppose, since I got back. Like there's something he said that got under your skin and hasn't come out, no matter what you do."

"I don't know what you mean," Kirk said coldly. He had gone from fit to burst to statuesque, a quick contrast that seemed to characterize James Tiberius Kirk.

"Bullshit. Your mood is affecting the whole ship. Everyone but me is fucking terrified of you. Even Spock is wary of you."

Jim approached the couch slowly, and McCoy was struck by the thought of a jaguar prowling slowly and silently through the jungle underbrush. He blinked at McCoy, his eyes flashing like glacial ice.

"If everyone on this ship is shitting their pants at the thought of me, Spock included, then why aren't you?"

McCoy set down his PADD and looked at Kirk for several moments. It was a good question, but not one that McCoy had an answer for. Eventually, he just shrugged.

"I'm not sure. You're one of the most dangerous people in this universe, if I'm being honest. I of all people should be terrified of you."

"Interesting," Kirk murmured.

"What did he say to you?" McCoy asked again.

Kirk walked over until he stood directly in front of McCoy, and then sat down so that he was straddling McCoy, his legs warm where they bracketed his hips. Still without speaking, he gripped McCoy's hair with one hand and pulled his head back. With the other hand, he unzipped McCoy's pants and shoved his hand inside, massaging McCoy's dick through his underwear. McCoy stifled a groan.

"Who says he said anything to me?" Kirk finally replied.

He pushed McCoy's underwear out of the way and gripped his bare dick, which was getting with the program. McCoy gripped Kirk's upper arms tightly, biting his lip and resisting the urge to buck into Kirk's hand.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," McCoy got out through gritted teeth. "He couldn't've done anything physically. Had to be verbal."

"Can't I just have a few off days?" Kirk gave a brutal twist of the hand that had McCoy gasping, his erection growing is fast it was almost dizzying. "Why does Bones have to have anything to do with this?"

"A few days? You've been off for the entire month I've been ba- Oh, _fuck_ \- back." Kirk grinned and repeated the motion that had left McCoy breathless, a swivel of the wrist and a thumb dragging over the slit. "Fucker," McCoy wheezed. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"And what am I doing, doctor?" Kirk asked, voice low.

"You're trying to- Jesus- get me to drop the topic by giving me a ha- _Ohhhh_ \- handjob."

Kirk's eyes were bright with the pride of possession, the grin seated on his face sharp instead of kind. McCoy had to close his eyes against the onslaught that was Kirk. He gripped Kirk's arms ever tighter, but Kirk didn't seem fazed at all.

"So smart," Kirk whispered. "Is it working?"

"N-No." McCoy stuttered, furious at the effect that Kirk's hands had on him. "I'm sick and tired of- oh, sweet mercy- of you terrorizing the ship."

Kirk sighed. "Fine, then."

He removed his hand from McCoy's dick and then elegantly got back up onto his feet, leaving McCoy gasping and breathless and bereft. McCoy reached out for him but missed, then flopped back against the couch.

"The fuck?" he demanded, well aware that the heat of his voice was very much counterbalanced and outweighed by his disheveled and debauched appearance.

"If the handjob won't work in getting you to shut up about my behavior, then there's no use in it." Kirk shrugged.

"You bastard," McCoy breathed.

"Maybe." Kirk grinned. "Although I might consider finishing you off if you beg for it."

"Like hell," McCoy snarled, still breathing hard. "I'll finish myself off."

"Oh no you won't. You're staying here tonight. If you finish yourself off I'll stick a vibrator in you and tie you up overnight, see how eager you are to finish yourself off in the morning."

"Jesus fuck, you really are a bastard."

"Just give up the issue and I'll let you come. Suck you off like a treat, even; I never did reward you for performing so admirably in that other universe."

Kirk smiled, and McCoy had to fight back a moan at the thought of those lips wrapped around his cock. He'd only ever gotten one blowjob from Kirk by winning a bet. The odds had been stacked over a thousand to one, and somehow McCoy had won. He still had wet dreams about it, about Kirk's lips wrapped like a fucking pillow around his dick, about the ethereal blue of his eyes.

"Fucker," McCoy muttered. "You've never asked me to beg before. Is this another of Bones' legacies?"

"Mmmm, it is." Kirk's grin was sharp. "He begged so pretty. Do you?"

McCoy grit his teeth. "Please, sir."

"Please sir, what?"

"Please, sir, let me come."

Kirk raised his eyebrows, a bemused grin tugging at his lips. "Holy shit, you really need to learn how to beg."

Embarrassed fury grew in McCoy, but was overshadowed by his desire to have Kirk on his knees and choking on McCoy. He spread his legs to display his dick, erect and leaking, and tipped his head back some. "Please, sir," he murmured, eyes locked on Kirk's, "let me come."

McCoy watched as Kirk's pupils dilated, and he gave a genuine smile. "Or maybe not. Look at you, begging so pretty for me. I might just help you out after all."

He approached with an unhurried gait, and when he dropped to his knees in front of McCoy it was like a goddamn revelation. McCoy sighed and spread his legs further, encouraging Kirk in the best way he knew how. When Kirk slowly wrapped his mouth around the head of McCoy's cock, McCoy groaned and allowed his head to tip back as wet heat enveloped him.

Kirk sunk farther and farther into McCoy's cock until his nose was pressed into pubic hairs. McCoy fisted a hand in Kirk's surprisingly soft hair to control him, looked down, and let out a low moan when he saw that Kirk had his hands clasped behind his back. He was the picture of submission, looking up McCoy's body with those eyes of his, bluer than a perfect summer's day and glossy with lust.

"Fuck," McCoy rasped. He twitched and moaned when Kirk did something with his tongue. "Oh, _fuck_. Look at you, swallowing me down like a fucking whore. Bet you love this." McCoy tightened his grip in Kirk's hair until a muffled grunt surrounding McCoy's dick made him groan. "Yeah, look at you, you were made to suck dick, weren't you?"

Kirk's eyes had gone hazy, and when McCoy yanked his head back he moaned low in his throat and twitched against McCoy's hand, like he wanted nothing more than to go back to sucking. Saliva coated his chin, and his lips were even more pink than McCoy thought they could ever be, puffy and swollen. Here was heaven personified, gagging for McCoy's dick.

"You're so fucking beautiful," McCoy crooned, and stroked his scar with the thumb of his free hand.

"'M not here to fish for compliments," Kirk reminded him, voice rough. He grinned as if he still held the power. Maybe he did. "Thought I was here to get you off."

"No harm in havin' a little fun doin' it."

McCoy lowered Kirk's head back onto his cock, and there Kirk got to sucking like it was more important than oxygen. Within moments McCoy was trembling beneath him, his legs tossed up over Kirk's shoulders so he had Kirk's head between his thighs. When Kirk sucked hard, he dug his heels into Kirk's back.

"Fuck," McCoy gasped. There was a white hot pleasure building in him, and he was so close to release that McCoy could almost taste it. "Oh, fuck, _fuck."_

When he orgasmed, it was like being hit by a wall. He cried out and tugged at Kirk's hair until Kirk's head had to ache and shuddered all over like he had been electrocuted.

"Well," Kirk murmured, smearing sticky semen just above McCoy's penis with his lips, "I'd call that successful. Look at you, is your higher brain function even back yet?"

"Maybe not," McCoy managed to say. "Jesus Christ, you sure can suck a dick."

Kirk clambered up onto the couch and pulled off McCoy's shirt with impatient hands. He then pressed his own leaking dick against McCoy's stomach, rocking gently against him. McCoy groaned but managed to summon up the energy to grab Kirk and finish him off. It was only seconds before Kirk stifled a moan by biting his lip and came in long stripes across McCoy's chest.

They remained there for a few moments, in the position they had originally started in. Kirk breathed harshly into McCoy's ear as he recovered his breath, but once he had he slid from the couch. McCoy looked up at him, exasperated.

"Come on," Kirk said, beckoning him with a wave of his hand. "I'm making you sleep on the floor if you don't shower."

"I think my legs have stopped working," McCoy groused, but he pushed himself to his feet anyways and followed Kirk into the bathroom.

Despite Kirk's amazing libido, there was no bathroom sex. McCoy and his still shaking legs were surprised but grateful. Instead, McCoy found himself pulled back against Kirk's chest as the water washed away the remnants of what had happened. With one arm around McCoy's waist, Kirk reached with the other to manually assist in the cleaning, his fingers trailing across McCoy's chest. It was surprisingly tender, but McCoy figured it was some other new kink that Kirk had acquired during Bones' visit.

Once the two of them were clean and had briskly dried off, Kirk booted him from the bathroom. McCoy used the time to think, wandering aimlessly around Kirk's quarters. He could've climbed into bed, but he didn't think he'd have the energy to get back out of it once Kirk was done in the bathroom.

While the blowjob had been amazing, McCoy couldn't help but wonder why he'd gotten it in return for something as trivial as dropping a subject. It was highly unlikely for Kirk to submit in any way at all, much less for something so small.

He had to be desperate, then. But desperate for what? To keep McCoy from knowing about something that had happened? McCoy couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd never seen Kirk desperate, didn't know Kirk was even capable of desperation. For all that Kirk was a tactical genius, something had him so desperate that he'd show McCoy that desperation, show him weakness.

"You're thinking too hard," Kirk informed McCoy as he stepped out of the bathroom, still nude. "Maybe I should fuck you again."

"You didn't do much fucking before we showered," McCoy reminded him, watching him closely. "In fact, you did an awful lot of sucking. What's up with that?"

Kirk tensed minutely, but enough that McCoy detected it. A shadow fell across his face, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. McCoy resisted the urge to smirk.

"So spontaneity isn't allowed, now?" Kirk asked. His tone was icy, full of hidden menace. "Who are you to try and give orders? I'll explain if I want to explain, and not a goddamn second sooner."

McCoy could tell that Kirk was coming close to snapping, and he had agreed to drop the topic, after all.

For today, anyways.

"I never said spontaneity wasn't allowed," McCoy replied mildly. "I think you're the one thinking too much, now."

He went to move past Kirk into the bathroom, but was stopped by a tight grip on his arm. Kirk's eyes were steely cold when he looked at McCoy, and something seemed to hum in the air between their eyes. Kirk's grip loosened just slightly, his eyes dropping to survey McCoy's body and then rising back to meet McCoy's.

"Don't take too long," was all Kirk eventually said. "I'll be waiting."

True to his word, when McCoy emerged from the bathroom not five minutes later, Kirk was lounging in bed on his PADD. He glanced up at McCoy, set the PADD off to the side, and settled more comfortably under the blankets. McCoy watched as he did, and it struck him how odd it was that they almost had a routine, now, on those nights that McCoy didn't return to his own room.

"Jesus, your mind is so fucking loud tonight," Kirk snapped, and flung back the furs and silk on McCoy's side. _His_ side, and wasn't that weird that he was just noticing that? "Just get in the fucking bed."

"Pushy," McCoy grumbled, but did as he was asked.

Kirk pulled him so that the two of them lay in their normal position, McCoy's back to Kirk's chest. McCoy was anticipating Kirk to then reach under the pillow and pull out his dagger, but he did no such thing. Instead, he just wrapped his hand around McCoy's neck like a parody of a collar and tugged him even closer.

It was nice, sleeping without the dagger at his neck, knowing that he could move freely- even if unconsciously- without possibly slitting his own throat. The nights when Kirk was too lazy to use the dagger were his favorite nights. He could almost pretend that they were just sharing body heat, two friends with no other intentions.

But they weren't friends.

McCoy just wanted them to be, wanted them to be even more than that. That realization had only occurred in the past month, that he wanted something more than what he currently had with Kirk. He wanted exclusivity, he wanted more than just sexual attraction, he wanted this bed every night, but no dagger.

The brief pseudo-relationship with Jim back in the other universe had ignited some longing within McCoy for something stable and good. He couldn't find it here, but maybe he could find an approximation of it, if he tried hard enough.

He slipped into sleep with thoughts of sappy domesticity dancing through his mind.

At some point in the night he woke, although he couldn't immediately pinpoint why. He kept his eyes shut and his breathing even, and then mapped out his surroundings. He was still in Kirk's bed, although they'd both shifted position in the night and McCoy was on his back. Kirk's legs were brushing against McCoy's in such a way that McCoy could assume that he was laying on his side facing McCoy. Everything was quiet for a moment, and then Kirk spoke.

"You're so fucking stubborn," he whispered, something like awe in his voice. "I'm going to have to tell you eventually, aren't I? You're too smart. You know exactly what buttons to push, how far you can go." A pause. "I could see in your eyes that you know I'm desperate to keep everything like it was, but we both know we're different, now."

What the fuck was going on?

"You want to know what he said? Fine. I suppose it'll be good practice for whenever you eventually pry the truth from me."

There was the sound of shifting, like Kirk was propping himself up on an elbow to look down at McCoy. Intensely curious, McCoy made sure that his breathing was as deep and even as it could be. He couldn't let Kirk know he was awake.

"When I had him strung up to be tortured, he looked at me, looked right at me, and somehow figured out my deepest secret, fucking spilled it to whoever was listening. I had to kill three security guards and erase the tape just to keep it a secret, because he aired my greatest weakness like it was dirty laundry or some shit." There was a soft, bitter laugh, little more than an exhalation of air. "He said that I loved you. That I'm in love with you in my own twisted way."

Suddenly, keeping his breathing even and his face impassive was the hardest thing that McCoy had done in his entire life. He strained his ears, desperate to hear what else Kirk might say over the pounding of his pulse.

"He was right, and I'm- I'm so scared of anyone finding out that I've been paranoid for the last month, anticipating that some sort of evidence I forgot to erase will be found and everyone will know." There was a long pause, fraught with buzzing tension. "If anyone found out, it would put you in so much danger. So many people wouldn't hesitate to use you against me, and I can't..." Kirk's next breath shook slightly, and McCoy's heart leapt and thudded. He just prayed that Kirk didn't have the occasion to feel his chest, because his heartbeat would give him away in a nanosecond. "I can't lose you," Kirk whispered. "I think you're the only thing that keeps me sane, sometimes. That keeps me Human, keeps me from going too far."

Warm, trembling fingers skated over McCoy's eyebrows, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips and the line of his jaw. McCoy was almost struck breathless by the gentleness of Kirk's touch. He hadn't believed Kirk to be capable of such a thing.

"And when you eventually find out, because I can never genuinely resist you for too long, you're going to leave me," Kirk whispered. His fingers rested on McCoy's cheek as if forgotten there.

There was the soft rustle of sheets and furs as Kirk moved, and then there were lips pressed to McCoy's own, softer than McCoy could've imagined. He'd never been kissed by Kirk like this, not once. Kirk always kissed him possessively, like a claim. This was so, so different. This was almost reverent.

When Kirk pulled away, McCoy's eyes fluttered open entirely without his consent or approval. His eyes were locked with Kirk's for a good three seconds before anything happened, the air around them frozen like a picture. Kirk's eyes seemed to glow in the near darkness, and his face was more open than McCoy had ever seen it, the shock written plainly across every little muscle in his face.

Then Kirk burst into motion like he was fleeing from phaser fire, staggering away from the bed. McCoy followed, something like panic bubbling in his chest. He couldn't let Kirk go, not when everything he wanted was so close, close enough to touch.

"You were awake?" Kirk demanded when McCoy made it around the room divider. He was pacing back and forth in a tight line, his hands planted on his hips and a furious light filling his face. "You were _awake?"_

"Listen," McCoy began desperately.

"Don't you dare order me around." Kirk demanded, his voice shaking. McCoy could see Kirk's fear and betrayal as plain as day, written in the tension of his back and the grip of his fingers on his hips.

"Sir-"

"Don't 'sir' me, Doctor McCoy."

_"Captain-"_

Kirk had McCoy pinned to the divider within a moment, and McCoy grunted as the decorative swirls of it dug into his bare back. The arm pressed into his chest made it a little hard to breathe, but McCoy felt breathless anyways in the face of Kirk, his emotions laid bare for anyone to see.

His face was set in a scowl, as terrible as any captain's could hope to be, but his eyes were so, so bright and full of fear. McCoy hadn't known Kirk could feel such fear; he'd thought that one had to be absolutely fearless in order to become an Imperial captain.

"Why did you pretend to be asleep?" Kirk asked. His voice was low and threatening. McCoy had no doubts that Kirk would kill him if he thought McCoy was a spy.

"I wanted to know what you were so desperate to hide," McCoy confessed. "I've always been too curious, you _know_ that."

"Yes. I do." Kirk pressed his arm harder into McCoy's chest. "Why did you let me keep talking after you had learned what you wanted to know? Why did you let me-" he cut himself off, lip twitching into a snarl.

_Why did you let me make a fool of myself? Show you what's inside of me?_

It didn't take a genius to finish the sentence.

"Because I wanted to hear what else you had to say," McCoy whispered. "Kirk-"

_"Don't_. I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth unless you're answering my questions, McCoy. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you into the brig and let security divvy your pretty ass up amongst themselves."

Desperation to get Kirk to just listen to him swelled up in McCoy like a tsunami, and then suddenly an idea flashed through his mind. He was acting before he knew it, like his body had a mind of its own. McCoy reached up, drew Kirk's face towards his, and- for the first time in their entire relationship- kissed him.

He poured all of his desperation into the kiss, his adoration and his fear. Kirk was frozen under him, but then seemed to crack and melt under McCoy's lips. He shifted his arms so that he held McCoy's biceps tightly and McCoy could breathe properly again, but just as quickly robbed him of breath by not relenting with his kisses.

When McCoy pulled away to suck in much needed air, he finally got a good look at Kirk. His face was filled with wonder, like he'd gotten something he'd never even dared to dream of and hope for, something beyond his wildest imaginings. McCoy could hardly believe that _he_ was the one to put that look on Kirk's face.

"After everything we've been through," McCoy said, his eyes still locked on Kirk's, "you think I could possibly leave you?"

"Say it," Kirk demanded, but the plea beneath was as clear as day. "No more games, we all play too many games- what are you trying to say?"

"I love you too." McCoy swallowed hard and repeated, "I- I love you too, dammit."

McCoy saw something tremble and fracture deep within Kirk's eyes, and Kirk took a long, shaking breath. He was still looking at McCoy like McCoy was something to stare at in awe, something to covet but never actually acquire.

"I never..." Kirk trailed off and looked around as if his quarters would inspire the words he needed. "I never thought you could possibly love me back."

"And I thought you weren't capable of loving anything or anyone," McCoy replied quietly. Something like hurt flashed through Kirk's eyes. "But then I found myself in another universe, where Captain Kirk was kind, and compassionate, and loved and trusted his McCoy, and I thought to myself, maybe that person could exist in the Captain Kirk I know." McCoy's hands still cradled Kirk's face, and he shifted his thumb so it ran across Kirk's cheekbone, their eyes still locked. McCoy let the pause stretch, then whispered, "And I think some part of him just might."

Kirk shook his head and stepped away from McCoy. He seemed almost disappointed, and his voice was forcibly dispassionate when he said, "I'm not that Kirk."

"No," McCoy agreed. "You're not."

"Well you clearly saw something in him," Kirk snapped, whirling back around to face McCoy. His fists were clenched by his sides. "You saw something in _him."_

"Do you really think I'm stupid enough to confuse the two of you?" McCoy replied, his voice just as sharp. "I saw potential in you, potential for love, for trust. I know exactly who you are."

Kirk looked at him for a long time, his hands falling out of fists and hanging lax. "And you want me?" he asked, voice sounding like it had been scraped across stone, gritty and raw. "You could have anyone, and you want... me?" His face was stony but confused, desperate for someone to speak plainly and end his incomprehension.

"I want _you_ , James," McCoy affirmed.

His heartbeat picked up at the use of Kirk's name. He'd never dared to call Kirk 'James' before, but everything felt different now, felt new and better. McCoy watched closely to see what Kirk's reaction was.

Kirk took a deep breath and approached McCoy, then grabbed his face and pulled him into another kiss. This kiss was joyful, pleased, and when a tongue probed at McCoy's lips, he let it in, let the kiss deepen.

"I want..." Kirk began, and then hesitated. "I need to know that this won't be temporary. That this will last."

"Until the very end," McCoy promised him.

Kirk kissed McCoy hard, and when he spoke he sounded almost frantic. "I need something tangible." He tipped his head so his forehead rested against McCoy's. "Verbal promises have no real weight here."

"I have an idea," McCoy said, his mind flashing to something he always carried in his pocket. It was used for protection, and here he could use it to protect Kirk, to assuage his desire for tangibility.

"You do? What?"

"Physical claims. Invisible under our uniforms, but there. I'll let you mark me, claim me as yours, but you've gotta let me do the same in return."

Kirk seemed to quake against McCoy, and with his hand over Kirk's heart, McCoy could feel his heartbeat skyrocket. He pulled back some to meet McCoy's eyes, and then nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes," he breathed. "Fuck, _yes."_

"I'm going to need a laser scalpel and a numbing agent, unless you want this to hurt."

"I don't give a shit about the pain." Kirk stepped back. "Where's your scalpel? I know you take it everywhere."

"In a pants pocket." McCoy entered the bathroom, where all of their clothes sans his shirt were discarded in a pile on the floor. He rummaged through the clothes, and within just moments he had found the scalpel.

"I can't believe you," Kirk muttered when McCoy shoved the scalpel into his hand and reclined on the bed, his body laid bare for Kirk. "You're- you're fucking insane. Why do you trust me?"

"Once at the Academy, not too long after you decided that I belonged to you, Pike called me for a meeting."

Kirk's face darkened. "I remember."

"One of the things he told me was that everyone in the Empire needed one person who they could trust implicitly. I didn't get it then, but I get it now."

"Funny." Kirk knelt on the bed between McCoy's legs. "He told me the same thing."

"Guess he was a little more observant than both of us," McCoy muttered, and spread his legs a little more. "Come on, go ahead and sign anywhere it'll be hidden by underwear."

Kirk moaned low in his throat and laid down between between McCoy's leg, so his head was close to McCoy's groin. McCoy didn't think the sight of Kirk between his legs would ever get old, and he took in the sight with greedy eyes.

"Where should I sign?" Kirk mused, tracing the tip of the scalpel across McCoy. It wasn't on, but the pressure was tantalizing enough to have McCoy's penis begin to swell. Kirk drew the scalpel along the v of McCoy's groin. "Here?"

"Just- Fuck, anywhere." McCoy was growing restless with anticipation.

There was a barely audible buzz as Kirk turned the scalpel on. Adrenaline was pumping through McCoy's system, and he could feel absolutely everything. He could feel Kirk's weight pressing down on him, the vague warmth of the scalpel as it came closer to his skin, the gusts of Kirk's breath across his groin, the tickle of Kirk's armpit hair brushing across his legs.

The initial contact of the scalpel had McCoy hissing in pain and reaching down to grab Kirk's head. Kirk made a small sound when McCoy gripped his hair tightly, and waved him off with the hand that didn't hold the scalpel.

"Gonna make me fuck up if you do that."

"Good thing dermal regenerators exist," McCoy said through gritted teeth. "If you fuck up, you get to erase it and try again as long as it hasn't scarred."

"And again," Kirk murmured, brushing against McCoy's erection with his slightly stubbly cheek. "And again. And again, if I really want to. You're such a sucker for pain, aren't you?"

"If we're bein' honest tonight, then yeah, sort of." McCoy let out a little moan when Kirk brushed his stubble against McCoy's dick again. "Fuck," he breathed. The pain from the scalpel along with the almost sweet prickling sensation of Kirk rubbing his face into McCoy's dick was nothing short of brilliant. McCoy had to refrain from arching up into the sensation.

"Not now," Kirk said teasingly, turning his head and brushing his lips against McCoy's erection. "Maybe I'll fuck you later, though."

"An' you?" McCoy inquired, ignoring how Kirk's words had affected his body. "If we're being honest, do you have any... submissive inclinations?"

"I used to." Kirk's gaze was focused now on McCoy's hip, and he could tell he'd hit a bit of a nerve. He was amazed when Kirk continued to speak. "Had most of it beat out of me. I'm not just gonna roll over and spread my legs for you, but I'm not above enjoying a good fuck every once in a while with the right person."

"'S that so?" McCoy asked, his fingers scratching at Kirk's scalp. "And how about blowjobs? You looked pretty eager to suck me down earlier."

"Oh, I was."

Kirk flipped off the scalpel and tossed it to the side, then turned his full attention to McCoy's erection. He trailed his lips up and down McCoy's cock, using an arm to keep McCoy's hips pinned all the while.

"C'mon," McCoy muttered, twisting and arching the best he could. The sensations were driving him mad. "C'mon, stop teasing and just-"

With no warning at all, Kirk took McCoy into his mouth and sucked him down. McCoy couldn't hear the clicking of Kirk's threat over his moans, but he could feel it as Kirk swallowed him down to the base. Kirk's mouth was white hot and so, so wet around him. McCoy could hardly believe what was happening, his knees going weak from the pleasure.

"Fuck," McCoy bit out, his legs tensing and relaxing spasmodically. Each time he tensed, his new marks flared up in pain, but that only heightened his arousal. "Look at you, sucking like it's a goddam lollipop. So- ah- pretty with your face in my crotch, shit. You look like a fucking prostitute with your damn eyes." Kirk sucked hard, and McCoy's eyes rolled back in his head. _"Oh_ , sweet Jesus."

Kirk's free hand rested itself on McCoy's hip, and his eyes were locked with McCoy's when he slowly but forcefully pressed his thumb into one of the letters. McCoy made a strangled sound and shuddered under Kirk.

He was being driven towards the edge at an embarrassing speed, especially considering that he'd already come earlier that night. Kirk hummed around McCoy's dick as he bobbed his head, and McCoy thought he saw stars as he bucked up against Kirk's arm. There was a coil of pleasure sitting at the base of his spine, growing tighter, tighter...

"So fucking good," McCoy babbled, "Oh, Jesus, your mouth is so hot."

Kirk let his teeth just barely scrape across the bottom of McCoy's dick, another spark of pain amid the pleasure. McCoy moaned when he came, his vice-tight grip in Kirk's hair preventing him from pulling off. Kirk swallowed everything, and the motion of his throat as he did sent lazy aftershocks spiraling through McCoy's system.

"Fuck," McCoy gasped, his eyes shut.

He forced his eyes open as Kirk lifted himself up from between McCoy's legs and crawled up his body. He collapsed atop McCoy, rutting his own erection against McCoy's stomach. McCoy, though, was fixated on Kirk's mouth. It was swollen and pink, his chin coated with saliva like it had been hours earlier.

"You're so fucking hot when you're running your mouth," Kirk said, his voice rough and pupils dilated. "Come on, keep talking."

"God, your fucking mouth is like magic, shit." McCoy sighed and arched up to meet Kirk's thrusts. Kirk moaned and fell forward to deliver biting kisses to McCoy's neck. "You love sucking dick, don't you? Fuck, you gag for it, and so pretty too. Wonder if I could get you to beg for it, to beg for the privilege of sucking my cock." Kirk trembled slightly and increased the pace of his rutting. McCoy shifted and groaned as his sensitive dick got caught in the fray. "Look at you," McCoy breathed into Kirk's ear, "can't even bring yourself to jack off, you're so desperate, reduced to rutting like a wolf in heat."

"Fuck," Kirk gasped into his neck.

"Come on, _Captain,"_ McCoy murmured, gripping Kirk's ass hard. "Come for me."

Kirk groaned and shuddered, coming in long stripes across McCoy's chest. He then collapsed on top of McCoy, who winced when his wounds were irritated. McCoy patted his side after a few seconds.

"C'mon, I gotta clean up before those marks get infected. I'll mark you when I get back."

Kirk groaned and rolled off of McCoy, who propped himself up on his arms and looked down at Kirk's handiwork. In neat letters on his v-line, low enough that they would be obscured by underwear, Kirk had written JTK. The letters were a darker, weeping red while the surrounding area was the lighter orange-red of blood that's been smeared into skin.

"Looks beautiful," McCoy commented. "Good work."

"Only the best for you," Kirk sighed, still laying limp on the bed, his eyes closed.

In the bathroom, McCoy wiped his stomach down as well as his hip, and then procured a gel that he kept in the little first aid kit in Kirk's bathroom. He squeezed some onto his fingers and began to trace the letters, covering each liberally in the clear, goopy substance. The gel would aid and speed up the scarring, especially under a dermal patch, which McCoy also covered his marks with.

When he emerged, Kirk was still laying sprawled across the bed. McCoy wiped him down quickly and then tossed the cloth he'd used to the side. Kirk sighed in a contented manner when McCoy settled between his strong thighs.

"Pretty view." Kirk's voice was still raspy.

"Glad you think so. Now lay back; I don't want to screw up."

"Yeah, yeah."

McCoy found the scalpel nestled in a fold of silk and took it in hand with practiced ease. He surveyed the area in front of him, the soft, unmarked skin. Possibilities danced in front of McCoy's eyes, but he found himself placing the scalpel over the area where his own mark lay.

"I do hope you know that I'm demanding monogamy," McCoy said conversationally as he turned the scalpel on. Kirk let out a little hiss when it cut into the skin so near his groin. "If I find you cheating, I won't hesitate to kill you _and_ them just like how I killed my faithless whore of an ex."

"I expect nothing less from you," Kirk breathed, his hands coming to settle lightly in McCoy's hair.

"And I won't be your pet, even thought you're a captain. I'm a partner. I refuse to be shared or turned into an exhibition."

"I know you are. We'll have to keep up outward appearances, though. You'll be an equal here, but not on shift."

"I know. And I want a voice in our sex lives. No choking me anymore, for one thing; that only gets you off."

Kirk's hands tightened on his hair for a brief moment before he said, "Alright."

"You're giving in remarkably easy." McCoy glanced up at him, a little wary.

"I've wanted you for so long," Kirk told him quietly. "I've finally got you, now, and no sexual habits are worth more than having you."

"You've had me for years," McCoy said, puzzled.

Kirk shook his head. "No. I haven't."

McCoy realized what Kirk meant and tried to fight a blush, looking down to focus on the letters he was carving into Kirk's flesh. Yeah, he understood. He understood pretty well.

He finally flicked the scalpel off and tossed it onto the bedside table. The letters seemed to swim before his eyes, red against beige. LHM, written into Kirk's skin forever.

"Come on," he coaxed. "Let's get you cleaned up and get those wounds treated."

"How long will it take to scar?" Kirk asked as he pushed himself off of the bed. McCoy watched blood well up and run sticky down Kirk's thigh in vivid trails, entranced for a moment.

"Oh, not too long. Maybe three days if it's done right."

Kirk approached McCoy and pulled him into a soft, warm kiss. When they parted, Kirk's eyes seemed to glitter joyfully. His lips twisted into a smile, and McCoy couldn't help but smile back.

"Come on," Kirk encouraged softly. "Lets go make me yours for good, yeah?"

"Yeah," McCoy breathed, visions of his future spinning out before him. They were dizzying, intoxicating, _beautiful_. "Yeah, okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hope you all enjoyed this, because I certainly enjoyed writing it! The second ficlet will be posted a week from today, so you guys can keep an eye out for that. Also, I've been working on a new McKirk fic, although I probably won't post any of it for a while, but you guys can look for that, too!


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